F 788 
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RIVER 



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ARIZONA- 



GRAND CANON 



COLOEADO EIYEE, 



ARIZONA. 



C. A. HIGGINS. 



With Original Illustrations by Thomas Moean. H. F. Fakny and 
F. H. Lung KEN. 



PASf^ENOER DEPARTMENT. SAXTA FE ROUTE. 

CHICAGO, 1S"j:. 



70007 



{l>«.IV..lON.,.t.^(l^ 




I. 

TIIIC C.'oloraJu i< i_>iie of tliu j^iv.it liverr^ i>( Xuith Auieriua. Foriia-d in .suulliuni Utah by 
tlie confluence of the Green and Grand, it intersects the nortli western cornerof Arizona, and, 
Ijeconiing the ea?:tern boundary of Nevada and California, flows southward until it reaches 
tidewater in the Gulf of California, ;Mexico. It drains a territory of :!00,000 square miles, and, 
traced back to the rise of its princijial source, is 2,001) miles long. At two i)oints, the Needles 
and Yuina on the California boundary, it is crossed by a raih-oad. Elsewhere its c'ourse lies 
far from Caucasian settlements and far from the routes of common travel, in the heart of a 
vast region fenced on the one hand by arid plains and on the other by formidable mountains. 
The early Spanish explorers iivt^t reported it to tlic civilized world in 1.540, two sejiarate 
expeditions becoming acquainteil with the river for a comparatively short distance above its 
mouth, and another, journeying from the JMoqui Pueblos northwestward acro.ss the desert, 
obtaining the lirst view of the Big Cation, failing in every effort to descend the canon wall, 
and spying the river only from afar. Again, in 1776, a Spanish jiriest traveling southward 
through Utah struck ofl' from the Mrgen River to the southeast and found a practicable 
crossing at a jjoint that still bears the name " Vado de los Padres." For more than eighty 
years thereafter the Big Cation remained unvisited, except by the Indian, the Mormon herds- 
man and the trapper, although the Sitgreaves expedition of IS.jl, journeying westward, struck 
the Colorailo about one hundred and lifty miles above Yuma, and Lieutenant \Vhipi)le in 
1S54 made a survey for a practicable railroad route along the thirty-flfth parallel, where the 
Atlantic and Pacific Railroad has since been constructed. The establishment of military posts 
in New Mexico and T'tah having made desirable the use of a water-way for the cheap trans- 
portation of supplies, in l.So7 the War Department ilispatched an expedition in charge of 
Lieutenant Ives to explore the Colorado as far from its mouth as navigation should be found 
practicable. Ives ascended the river in a specially constructed steandraat to the head of Black 
Canon, a few miles below the confluence of the Virgen River in Nevada, where further navi- 
gation became iinpossilde; then, returning to the Needles, lie set ofl" across the country toward 
the northeast. He reached the Big Canon at Diamond Creek and at Cataract ('reck in the 
spring of IS.kS, and from the latter point made a wide southward detour aiouiul tlie San 
Francisco peaks, thence northeastward to the Moqui Pueblos, thence eastward to Fort Dcliauce 
and so back to civilization. 

That is the Iiistory of the esci)loi\itioiis of the Colorado up to twenty-live years ago. Its 
exact cour.-^e was unknown for many hundred miles, even its origin in the junction of the 
Grand and Green Rivers being a matter of conjecture, it being dilticult to approach within a 
distance of two or three miles from tlie channel, while descent to the river's edge could be 
hazarded only at wide intervals, inasmuch as it lay in an a|)palliiig fissure at the foot of 
seemingly impassable clirt" terraces that led d(nvii from the Ijordering plateau; and an attempt 
at its navigation would have lieen courting death. It was known in a genenil wav that the 



entire channel between Nevada and Utah was of the same titanic character, reaching its 
culmination nearly midway in its course through Arizona. In 1869 Maj. J. W. Powell under- 
took the exploration of the river with nine men and four boats, starting from Green River 
City, on the Green River, in Utah. The project met with the most urgent remonstrance from 
those who were best acquainted witli the region, including the Indians, who maintained that 
boats could not possibly live in any one of a score of rapids and falls known to them, to say 
nothing of the vast unknown stretches in which at any moment a Niagara might be disclosed. 
It was also currently believed that for hundreds of miles the river disappeared wholly beneath 
the surface of the earth. Powell launched liis flotilla on Ma}' 24, and on August 30 landed 
at the mouth of the Virgen River, more than one thousand miles by the river channel from 
the place of .-starting, minus two boats and four men. One of the men had left the expedition 
by way of an Indian reservation agency before reaching Arizona, and three, after holding out 
against unprecedented terrors for many weeks, had finally become daunted, choosing to 
encounter the perils of an unknown desert rather than to brave any longer the frightful 
menaces of that Stygian torrent. These three, unfortunately making their ajjpearance on the 
plateau at a time when a recent depredation was colorably chargeable upon them, were killed 
by Indians, their story of having come thus far down the river in boats being wholly dis- 
credited by their captors. Powell's journal of the trip is a fascinating tale, written in a compact 
and modest style, which, in spite of its reticence, tells an epic story of purest heroism. It 
definitely estal>lislied the scene of his e.xploration as the most wonderful geological and spec- 
tacular phenomenon known to mankind, and justified the name which had been bestowed upon 
it — The Grand ('aSox — sublimest of gorges; Titan of chasms. Many .scientists have since 
visited it, and, in the aggregate, a considerable number of unprofessional lovers of nature; but 
until a few years ago no adequate facilities were provided for the general sightseer, and the 
world's most stupendous panorama was known principally through report, by reason of the 
discomforts and ditficuUies of the trip, which deterred all except the most indefatigable 
enthusiasts. Even its geographical location has been the subject of widespread misapprehension. 
As stated by Captain Button, in his admirable " Tertiary History of the Grand Canon District," 
its title has been pirated for application to relatively insignificant canons in di.stant parts of 
the country, and thousands of touri.sts have been led to believe that they were viewing the 
Grand Canon when, in fact, they looked upon a totally dift'erent scene, between which and the 
real (irand Canon there is no more compaiiscm "than there is between the Alleghanies or 
Trosachs and the Himalayas." 

There is but one Grand Cauon. Nowhere in the worlil has its like Ijcen found. 



II. 

IT lies wholly in the northern part of Arizona. It is accessible from the north only at the 
cost of weeks of arduous travel, necessitating a special expedition with camp outfit and 

jiack animals. From the south it is easily reached in a single day's journey by stage from 
the town of Flagstaff, an important station on the Santa Fe Pacific Railroad, which is a 
divisi(jn of the Santa Fe Route. There is no otlier railmad within a distance of several 
hundred ndles. 

In 1802 a tri-weekly stage line was permanently established between Flagstaft and the 
Grand Canon. The entire distance is sixty-five miles, and it is covered in eleven hours, by the 
aid of three relays. The route is nearly level, traversing the platform district which, taking 
name from the river, is known as the Colorado Plateau. Tlie excellence of the roadwav needs 







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I? 



no other ti^timony tli:in tlu' fact that tlie jounu'y coii^-iiines so hitle tinu>. Fur long strctrlies 
it is as hard ami smooth as a houlevard. Tlie stage leaves Flafrstatf in the murning, reaches 
a comfortable dinner station at noon, and deposits its passengers at a jiermanent camp on the 
rim of the most impressive jiortion of the Canon before nightfall. The Canon ean)p is a tiny 
tent village, pictures! inely located in a park of tall jiines. Each tent is floored, and furnished 
with bed, talde, chairs and other articles of comfoi-t. l'"xcellent meals are provided. Elevated 
more than 7,000 feet above sea-level, the air is pure and exhilarating, and the health-giving 
climate that is characteristic of the region, together with the charming' invironment of the 
pine forest, would make a week's stay at the Canon camp a cleliglitful and pn.litable outing, 
even were there no tirand Canon at hand. 

The stage returns from the Canon to Flagstalf every other day. If it is necessary to be 
satisfied with a few hours' inspection, one may return the following morning after arrival, 
and thus seethe Cirand Canon in but two days' ab.sence from Flagstaff. AV'hile so superficial a 
view will reveal oidy a fraction of its protean splendors, it will jirove an everlasting menuiry. 




f<tn ttii Ihiijtin/^ Mdi'dli. 



MIDWAY STATION AT CEDAR RANCH. 



III. 



THE journey to the Cai'ion is greatly diversified in interest. Plunging at once into one of the 
parks that are peculiar to .Arizona — forests of pine free from undergrowth, streaked witli 
sunlight and seductively carpeted with grass — the road crosses a tiank of the splendid San 
Francisco peaks, descending to level stretches where prairie dogs abound, again winding 
through rocky defiles, on past volcanic vent-holes in whose subterranean recesses the Cave 
jiwellers made their primitive home and where the hill slopes are thickly strewn with fragments 
of i>ottery ; past hare mountains of black cinder striped with red slag ; over broad ranges where 
sheep and cattle browse and the tents of the herders gleam from the hillside where the infrequent 
spring pours out its flow; threading the notches of .slopes regularly set with cedar and pinon ; 
across gentle divides from whose summits the faint rosy hues of the Painted Desert may be seen 
in the northeast, and in the north the black jagged lines of mountain ranges indefinitely far 
away; then once more into the pines and down a short, steep descent to the terndnus in a roman- 
tic glen near John Hance's caliin, some fifteen miles west of the confluence of the Little Colorado 
with the main river. 



In all tlie journey nothing has been encountered that could prepare the mind for tran- 
scendent scenery, save that in the last half mile two or three glimpses of what were guessed to be 
pinkish cliffs far to right and left were shadowed faintly through the trees. And certainly there 
is nothing that portends the heroic in tlie sylvan scene where at last the traveler (luits the stage. 
Small herbage and flowers of every hue grow at the foot of the pines, among pretty rock frag-' 
ments of variegated color. Save for a single crag, whose gray crest barely tops the northward 
slope of the glen, a hundred yards away, there is no hint of any presence foreign to the peaceful 
air of a woodland glade, denizened by birds and squirrels, innocent even of the rumor of such a 
thing as the Grand Canon. Tlie visitor, smitten with a sudden fear of bitter disappointment in 
store, strides eagerly up the slope to put the vaunted Canon to the test. Without an instant's 
warning he finds himself upon the verge of an unearthly spectacle that stretches beneath his feet 
to the far horizon. Stolid indeed is he if he can front that awful scene without quaking knee or 
tremulous breath. 

IV. 

i\ inferno, swathed in soft celestial tires; a whole chaotic under-world, just emptie<l of 
^\^ primeval floods and waiting for a new creative word ; a boding, terrible thing, unflinchingly 
real, yet spectral as a dream, eluding all sense of perspective or dimension, outstretching the 
faculty of measurement, overlajiping the confines of definite apprehension. The beholder is at 
first unimpressed by any detail ; he is overwhelmed by the ensemble of a stupendous panorama, a 
thousand square miles in extent, that lies wholly beneath the eye, as if he stood upon a mountain 
peak instead of the level l>rink of a fearful chasm in the plateau whose opposite shore is thirteen 
miles away. A labyrintli of huge architectural forms, endlessly varied in design, fretted with 
ornamental devices, festooned with lace-like webs formed of talus from the upper clitfs and 
painted with every color known to the palette in pure transparent tones of marvelous delicacy. 
Never was picture more harmonious, never flower more exquisitely beautiful. It flashes instant 
communication of all that architecture and painting and music for a thousand years have grop- 
ingly striven to express. It is the soul of Michael Angelo and of Beethoven. 

A canon, truly, but not after tlie acceirted type. An intricate system of cahons, rather, each 
subordinate to the river channel in the midst, which in its turn is subordinate to the total 
eflect. That river channel, the profoundest depth, and actually more than six thousand feet 
l)elow the point of view, is in seeming a rather insignificant trench, attracting the eye more by 
reason of its sond)er tone and mysterious suggestion than by any appreciable characteristic of a 
chasm. It is nearly five miles distant in a straight line, and its npiiermo-st rims are 3,000 feet 
l)eneath the observer, whose measuring capacity is entirely inadequate to the demand made by 
such magnitudes. One cannot believe the distance to be more than a mile as the crow flies, 
before descending the wall or attempting some other form of actual measurement. Mere 
brain knowledge counts for little against the illusion under which the organ of vision is here 
doomed to labor. That red cliff upon your right, darkening from white to gray, yellow and 
brown as j'our glance descends, is taller than the Washington monument. The Auditorium in 
Chicagn would not cover one-half its perpendicular span. Yet it docs not greatly impress you. 
You idly toss a pebble toward it, ami are surprised to note how far the missile falls short. 
Subsequently you learn that the cliff is a good half mile distant. If you care for an abiding 
sense of its true proportions, go over to the trail that begins beside its summit and clamber 
down to its base and back. You will return some hours later, and with a decided respect 
for a small Grand Canon clilT. Kelativelv it is insigniticant ; in tluit sense vour first estimate 




J)ru<i n hij I'lmiHOA Mxr'in. 



HEAD OF THE OLD HANCE TRAIL. 



was correct. WVve Vulcan to cast it lio.lily into tlic chasm directly 
l)ent'ath your feet, it would pass inr a l)owl(ler, if indeed it wcv" 
discoverable to the unaided eye. Yet the immediate chasm itself is 
only the first step of a long terrace that leails down to the innermost 
gorge and the river. Roll a heavy stone In the rim and let it ■_'!>. 
It falls sheer the height of a church or an ICillel Tower, according 
yi.>ur position, and explodes like a bomb on a projecting ledge. If, 
hapjiily, any consideraljle fragments remain, they bound onward like 
ela.stic balls, leaping in wil.l parabola fr. 
trees like straws, bursting, crash- 
ing, thundering down until they 
make a last plunge over the Ijrink 
of a void, and then there comes 
languidly up the clitl'siiles a faint, 
distant roar, and your bowlder 
that had withstood the butiets of 
centuries lies scattered as wide a- 
WyclitTe's ashes, although the fin;il 
fragment has lodged only a little 
way, so to speak, below the rim. 
Such performances are frequentl>' 
given in these amphitheatres with 
out human aid, bj- the mere un 
dernnning of the rain, or perhajis 
it is here that Sisyphus reheursi - 
his unending task. Often in th 
silence of night a tremendous frag- 
ment may be heard crashing from 
terrace to terrace like shocks of 
thunder ]ieal. 

The spectacle is so symmet- 
rical, and so completely excludes 
the outside world and its accus- 
tomed standards, it is with dilli- 
culty one can acquire any notion 
of its immensity. Were it half as 
dee)), half as broad, it would be 
no less liewildering, so utterly 
docs it batiie Imman grasp. Some- 
thing may be gleaned from the 

account given by geologists. What is known to them as the (irand (anon Hisuict lies prin- 
cipally in northwestern Arizona, its h-ngth fiom northwest to southeast in a straight line lieing 
about ISO miles, its width 125 nnles, ami its total area some 1-5,000 scjuare miles. Its northerly 
beginning, at the high plateaus in southern I'tah, is a series of terraces, many miles broad, 
drojiping like a stairway step liy stej) to succe.ssively lower geological fornuitions, until in Arizona 
the i>latforni is reached which liorders the real cliasui and extends southward beyond far into 
the central part of that territory. It is the theory of gc.jlogi>ts that 10,01)0 feet of strata have 
been swept by erosion from the surface of this entire platform, whose present uppermost 




Furuif. 



THE STAGE TERMINUS. 



formation is the Carboniferous; tlie deiluctioii being based upon tlie faot that the missing Per- 
mian, Mesozoic and Tertiary formations, whicli belong above tliis Carboniferous in the series, are 
found in tlieir place at the beginning of the northern terraces referred to. The theory is fortified 
by many evidences supplied by examination of the district, where, more than anywhere else, 
mother earth has laid bare the secrets of her girlhood. The climax in this extraordinary 
example of erosion is, of course, the chasm of the Grand CaiJon proper, which, were the 
missing strata restored to the adjacent plateau, would be 16,000 feet deep. The layman is apt 
to stigmatize such an assertion as a vagary of theorists, and until the argument has Ijeen heard 
it does seem incredible that water should have carved such a trough in solid rock. It is 
easier for the imagination to conceive it as a work of violence, a sudden rending of earth's 
crust in some huge volcanic fury; but it appears to be true that the whole region was repeat- 
edly lifted and submerged, both under the ocean and under a fresh-water sea, and that during 
the period of the last upheaval the river cut its gorge. Existing as the drainage system of a 
vast territory, it had the riglit of way, and as the plateau deliberately rose before the pressure 
of the internal forces, slowly, as grind the mills of the gods, through a period to be measured 
by thousands of centuries, the river kept its bed worn down to the level of erosion; sawed 
its channel free, as the saw cuts the log that is thrust against it. Tributaries, traceable now 
only by dry lateral gorges, and the gradual Imt no less efl'ective proce.ss of weathering, did 
the rest. 

Beginning on the plateau level on the Canon's brink, the order of the rock formations 
above the river, according to Captain Dutton, is as follows: 

I. Cherty limestone. 240 feet. i''. Keii Wiill limestone. l.otK) (eet. 

■Z. Upper Aubrey limestone, 320 feet. 7- I^ower Carboniferous sandstone. 550 feet. 

:!. Cross-bedded sandstone, 380 feet. S. Quartzite base of Carboniferous. 180 feet. 

4. Lower Aubrey sandstone. SI50 feet. 9. Arehiean. 

5. Upper Red Wall sandstone. -100 feet. 

The total vertical clepth is more tlian a mile. 



V. 

ONLY by descending into the Canon may one arrive at anything like comprehension of its 
jiroportions, and the descent cannot be too urgently commended to every visitor who is 
feutlicieiitly robust to bear a reasonable amount of fatigue. But few practicable paths 
down the Canon wall exist throughout its entire length. One of these, the old Hance trail, 
begins within half a inile of the stage terminus. The new trail is distant only half a mile 
farther; and three miles away is the Cameron trail. The location of the Caiion camp thus 
affords magnificent vidws from the rim and convenient ways of access to the Canon depths 
and the river. Tlie first mentioned trail has been practically superseded ; the others may be 
traversed nearly all the way on horseback in safety; but the following notes of a descent of 
the old Hance trail when there was no other may serve to indicate the nature of such an 
experience liefore its asperities were softened ; 

"For the first two miles it is a sort of Jacoli's ladder, zigzagging at an unrelenting pitch 
down a steep and nearly uniform decline caused by a sli<ling geological fault and centuries 
of frost and rain. At the end of two miles a comparatively gentle slope is reached, known as 
tlie First Level, some 2,500 foot below the rim; that is to say — for such figures have to be 
imjiressed objectively ujion tlie mind — five times the height of St. Peter's, the Pyramid of Cheops, 
or the Strasburg Cathedral; eight times the height of tlie Bartholdi Statue of Liberty; eleven 

14 







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y^ 



,^ 






v^. 



i." -■ 




LOOKING UP THE TRAIL, 



/iu .>/••" 



liitlr.ti htj 'ilionuts Mofiln, 



tinies the height of Hunkrr Hill MimiiiiK'iit. Loukiii',' hack fidin llii- level tlie hui;e pic- 
turesque towers tliat horcier the rim shrink to pi-juiies and .<eeui to crown a perpendicular 
wall, unattaiuahly far iu the sky. Yet less than one-half the descent has been made, and less 
than one-third the entire distance of the trail to the river accomplished. Hance's Rock Cabin 
lies only a short distance ahead, where dinner anil rest are to be ha<l under the shade of 
cottouwoods by the side of a living spring. Farther on, the frail continues down a widening 
gorge pleutilully set with shrubs and spangled, in season, with the bloom of the yucca, prickly 
pear, jirinirose, marigold and a score of unfamiliar showy flowers, white, blue, reil and yellow, 
surprisingly fresh and vigorous above a dry, red, stony soil. Small li/.ards dart across the 
path — brown lizards, spotted lizards, striped lizards, lizards with tails of peacock blue — and 
an occasional horned toad scrambles out of the way. No other reptile is encountered. Soon 
the course of a clear rivulet is reached, wliose windings are followed to the end. The red wall 
limestone gives place to dark-brown sandstone, whose iierfectly horizontal .strata rapidly rise 
above the head to prove the rate of descent along tbi' ajiparently gentle decline. Overshadowed 
by tliis sandstone of chocolate hue the way grows gloomy and foreboding, and the gorge 

nari'o«s greatly. The travel- 
er stojis a moment beneath 
a slanting cliti'500 feet high, 
where there is an Indian 
grave and ))ottery scattered 
about. A gigantic niche has 
licen worn in the face of this 
cavernous clitt', which, in 
recognition of its fancied 
Egyptian character, was 
named the Temple of Sett 
by the jiainter, Thomas 
Moran. A little beyond this 
temple it becomes necessary 
to abandon the animals. The 
river is still a mile and a 
half distant. The way nar- 
rows now to a mere notch, 
where two wagons could 
iiarely pa.ss, and the granite 
begins to tower gloomily 
overhead, for we have drop- 
))ed below the .sandstone an<l 
have entered the arch.'ean 
— a frowning black rock, 
streaked, veined and swirled 
with vivid red and white, 
smoothed and polished by 
the rivulet and l>eautiful 
as a mosaic. (!)bstjicles are 
encountered in the form of steeji interposing crags, past which the brook has found a way, but 
over which the pedestrian must clamber. After these lesser diiliculties come sheer <lescents. 
wliich at present are passeil by the aid of ropes. The last considerable drop is a forty-foot bit 
by the side of a j^retty cascade, where there are just enouiih irregularities in the wall to give 
toe-hold. The narrowed cleft Ijecomes exceedingly wayward in its course, turning abruptly to 
right and left, and working down into twilight depths. It is verv still. At every turn one 
looks to see the embouchure upon the river, antici]ialing the sudden shock of the uninterce]>ted 
roar of waters. When at last tins is reached, over a linal downward clamber, the traveler stands 
upon a sandy rift confronted by nearly vertical walls many hundreil feet high, at whose base 
a black torrent pitches in a giddying onward slide that gives him momentarily tlie sensation 
of sli]iping into an abyss. 

'■ With so little labor may one come to the Colorado Hiver in the heart of its most tremendous 
i-bannel, and gaze upon a sight that heretofore has had fewer witnesses than have the wilds of 
.\frica. r>warfed l)y such prodigious mountain shores, which ri,se immediately from the water at 

17 




RESTING PLACE. 



an angle tli.it xvoulii deny footing to a n.ountain ^heep, it is not easy to estimate confidently the 
width and volnme of the river. Choljed by the stnbborn granite at this point, its width is prob- 
ably between two hundred and fifty and tliree hnndred feet, its veloeity fifteen miles an hour, and 
its Volume and turmoil equal to the Whirlpool Kapids of Niagara. Its I'ise in time of heavy rain 
is rapid and appalling, for the walls shed almost instantly all the water that falls upon them. 
Drift is lodged in the crevices thirty feet overhead. For only a few hundi-ed yards is the tortuous 
stream visible, but its effect upon the senses is jierhaps the greater for that reason. Issuing as 
from a mountain side, it slides with oily smoothness fur a space and suddeidy breaks into violent 
waves that comb back against the current and shoot une.xpecfedly here and there, while the 
volume sways tide-like fr.im side to side, and long curling breakers form and hold their outline 
lengthwise of the shore, despite the seemingly irresistible velocity of the water. The river is 
laden with drift, huge tree trunks, which it tosses like chips in its terrible plav. 

"Standing upion that shore one can l:)arely credit Powell's achievement, in spite of its alisolute 
authenticity. Never was a more magnificent scH'-reliance displayed than by the man who not 
only undertook the passage of Colorado River but won his way. And after viewing a fraction of 
the scene at close range, one cannot hold it to the discredit of "three of his companions that they 
abandoned the undertaking not far below this |>oint. The fact that these who jiersisted got 
through alive is hardly more astonishing than that anv should have had the hardihood to persist. 
For it could not have l)een alone the privation, the infinite toil, the unending suspen.se in constant 
menace of death that assaulted their courage; these they had looked for; it was rather the 
unlifted gloom of thuse tartarean depths, the unspeakable horrors of an endless valley of the 
shadow of death, in which every step was irrevocable. 

" Returning to the spot wiiere the animals were aliandoned,camp is made for the night. Next 
morning the way is retraced. Not the most fervid pictures of a poet's fancy could transcend the 
glories then revealed in the depths of the Canon; inky shadows, pale gildings of lofty spires, 
golden splendors of sun l)eating full on facades of red and yellow, obscurations of distant peaks 
by veils of transient shower, glimpses of white towers half drowned in purple haze, suffusions of 
rosy light blended in reflection from a humlred tinted walls. Caught up to exalted emotional 
heights the beholder becomes unmindful of fatigue. He mounts on w ings. He drives the chariot 
of the sun." 

VI. 

HAVING returned to the pilateau, it will he found that the descent into the Canon has 
bestowed a sense of intimacy that almost amounts to a mental grasp of the scene. The 
imposing Temple of Sett will be recognized after close scrutiny in a just determinable 
penstroke of detail. A memorably gorgeous 01ynii>ian height that dominated everything for 
the space of a mile will be seen to be nothing more than the jierpendicular front of the Red 
Wall limestone, topped up and away by retreating summits, hidden from below, that reduce 
it now to the unimportance of a mere girdle. The verdant, flowered expanse of notable 
niggedness below the Rock Cabin will be discoverable in a small smooth patch of marly hue. 
The terrific deeps that part the walls of hundreds of castles and turrets of mountainous bulk 
will be apprehended mainly through the memory of ujiward looks from the bottom, while 
towers and obstructions an<l yawning Assures that were deemed events of the trail will be 
wholly indistinguishable, although they are known to lie somewhere fiat beneath the eye. 
The comparative insignificance of what are termed grand sights in other parts of the world is 
now clearly revealed. Twenty Yosemites might lie uuperceived anywhere below. Niagara, 
that ;\Iecca of marvel seekers, would not here possess the dignity of a trout stream. Your 
companion, standing at a short distance on the verge, is an insect to the eye. 

Still such particulars cannot long hold the attention, for the panorama is the real over- 
mastering charm. It is never twice the same. Although you think you have spelt out every 
temple and ]ieak and escarpment, as the angle of sunlight changes there begins a ghostly 
advance of colossal forms from the farther side, and what you had taken to be tlie ultimate 




Jfratrn inj J hotnast Moritn. 



IN THE GRANITE, OLD HANCE TRAIL. 




wall is seen to be mncle up ol 
still other i.soUiteil seulptnfes, 
revealed now for the tirsi time 
by silhouettins; sluulnws. The 
scene incessantly ehanires, (lush- 
ing and fading, advancing intn 
crystalline clearness, retiriiitr 
into slumberous haze. Should 
it chance to have rained lieavily 
in the night, next morning the 
Canon is completely tilled with 
fog. As the smi mounts, tin- 
curtain of mist suddenly breaks 
into cloud fieeces, and while 
you gaze these fieeces rise and 
dissipate, leaving the Canon 
bare. At once around the bases 
of the lowest cliffs white jjuHs 
l;)egin to appear, creating a scene 
of unparalleled beauty as their 
dazzling cunudi swell anil rise 
and their number nuiltiplies, 
until once more they overflow 
the rim, and it is as if you ftoo<i 
upon some land's end looking 
down upon a formless void. 
comes the complete dissipation, and again the 
marshaling in the ilepths, the upwaril advance, the total 
sufl'usion and the speedy vaiushing, repeated over and 
over until the warm walls have expelled theirsaturation. 
Long may the visitor loiter upon the rim, powerless 
to shake loose from the charm, tirelessly intent upon 
the silent transformations until the sun is low in the we.-^t. Then .> 
the Canon sinks into mysterious purple shadow, the far Shinumn 
Altar is lipped with a golden ray, and against a leaden horizon 
the long line of the Echo Clifl's reflects a soft brilliance of inde- 
scribable beauty, a light that, elsewhere, surely never was on sea or 
land. Then darkness frills, and should there be a moon, the sci'ue in 
part revives in silver light, a thousand specti'al forms projected from 
inscrutable gloom; dreams of mountains, as in their sleep tliey broml 
on things eternal. 



Then iiuickly 



■'f/ni Inj 11. F. I-'iinnj. 
ON THE TRAIL. 




Drawn hij F. H. Lnngren. 
AN EVENING AT THE CANON CAMP. 



L. of Q 



CLIFF DWELLINGS. 



At several iiointsupon 
tlio rimoftliel iraniK'anon, 
botli east and west of tlie 
stage tenniiuis, tlie razed 
walls of aneient stone dwell- 
iiiirs may be seen. They 
are situated upon the verae 
of the preci]ni'e, in one in- 
stance erowniiiu;- an out- 
standing tower that is con- 
nected with tlie main wall 
by onl}- a narrow saddle, 
and ])rot<>cted on evei'v 
other hand by the per- 
pendicular dcjiths of the 
Canon. Tlie worlil does not 
contain anotlier fortress su 
triumphantly invulnerable 
to primitive warfare, nnr 
a dwelling-place that can 
equal it in sublimity. It 
■will be found upun onent 
the salients of Point ^[oran. 

Si-attered southward over the platea\i, other ruins of similar 
character have I)een fouml. Perfect specimens of ])0ttery and other 
domestic utensils luive been exhumed in small number, and the rich 
and varied arclweological collections that have so recently rewarded 
systematic examination of prehistoric ruins in other parts of the 
country, 'wliose treasures were thought to liave been exliausted, 
would seem to warrant careful .«earch of this region, where the 
known ruins have been but superficially examined, and doulitless 
many more await discovery. 

Tlie most famous group, and the largest aggregation, is (nund in 
Walnut Caiion, eight miles southeast from Flagstatl'. This caiion is 

several hundred feet deep and some three miles long, with steep terraced walls of limestone. 
Along the shelving terraces, nmlrr beetling jirojertions of the strata, arc scores of these quaint 
abodes. The larger are divided into four or five comparlmcnts by cemented walls, many jiarts of 
which are still intact. It i< lu^lieved that these ancient i>eople customarilv dwelt upon the plateau 
above, retiriii<_' ti> their f irlilicatimis wlicu attackcil bv an enemv. 




CAVE DWELLINGS. 

Nine miles from Flagstaff, and only half a mile fnun the stage road to tlie Grand 
Caiion, these remarkable ruins are to be seen, upon the summit and fartlu'r side of an extinct 
crater whose slopes are buried deep in black and red gravel-like cinder. The Caves, so-called, 
were the vent holes of the volcano in the time of the eruptions of lava and ashes that have so 
plentifully covered the region for many miles about — countless ragged caverns opening directly 
underfoot and leading by murky windings to unknown deeps in the earth's crust. Many are 
simple pot holes a few yards in depth, their suliterranean leads choked up and coticealed. Others 
yawn black, like burrows of huge beasts of prey. In many instances they are surrounded by 
loose stone walls, parts of which are standing just as when their singular inhabitants peered 
through their crevices at an approaching foe. Broken pottery abounds, scattered in small frag- 
ments like a talus to the very foot of the hill. The character of the pottery is similar to that 
found in the Cliff Dwellings, and it is probal)le that the Cave Pwellers and the Cliff" Dwellers 
were the same people. The coarser vessels are sini])ly glazed, or roughly corrugated ; the smaller 
ones are decorated by regular indentations, in imitation of the scales of the rattlesnake, or painted 
in black and white geometrical designs. 

Inferentially, these mysterious people, like the Cliff' L'wellers, were of the same stock as the 
Pueblo Indians of our day. How long ago they dwelt here cannot he surmised, save roughly from 
the appearance of extreme age that characterizes many of the rains, and the absence of native 
traditions concerning them. Their age has been estimated at from six to eight hundred years. 




CAVE DWELLING, NEAR FLAGSTAFF. 




-X 




■ViV- 



!'r<iint hij Thoni'i.< Mnrun 



CLIFF DWELLINGS, A'ALNUT CANON 



SAN FRANCISCO PEAKS. 

These iiiagnitieeut peaks, vi<iljle from i-veiy jiait of tin- country within a laiHus of a huiuh'eil 
miles, lie just north of Flagstafl'. They are four iu nuuil)er, tiut form oue mountain. From Flag- 
staff' a road has been eonstructed to one of the peaks, Mt. Humplirey, whose summit is 12,750 
feet above sea-level. It is u good mountain road, and the entire distance from Flagstaff' is only 
about ten nnles. The trip to the sumnut and back is easily made in one day. 

Mr. A. Doyle, of Flagstaff', is tlie owner of the trail to Humphrey's Peak, and acts as guide 
when desired. He provides the necessary equipment, including his own services, at a reasonable 
cost. Independent arnmgements may be made if desired, but in that case toll is charged for use 
of the trail. 

The sununit of Mt. Humplirey alliirds one of the noblest of mountain views, the pancjrama 
including the north wall of the Grand Canon, the Painteil Desert, the Moijiii villages, the Super- 
stition Mountains near Pho>nix, many lakes, and far glimpses over a wiile circle. 



COST OF A TRIP TO THE GRAND CANON, STAGE 
SCHEDULE, HOTELS, ETC. 

Tiie stage fare from Flagstaff' to the Grand Canon and return is $1.5.0U. Stage tickets may be 
purchased on arrival at Flagstaff', or special railmad tickets, bearing stage coupons, may be 
obtained by the tourist. 

The stage leaves Flagstaff" for the Grand Canon after breakfast every Monday, Wednesday 
and Friday morning, except during the winter months, returning Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday 
mornings. The office of ,1. W. Thurbur, manager of the Grand Caiion Stage Line Company, is 
conveniently situated on the depot platform, and visitors will find it to their advantage to apjily 
to liim immediately upon arrival and secure stage acconnnodations. 

The cost to Grand Canon visitors of hotel accommodations, at l-'lagstatf, tlie Canon and tlie 
nndway lunch station at Cedar Ranch, is about {!;!.()() per day. 

Camping outfits, pack animals, saddle horses, guides, rough clothing, stout shoes and general 
supplies can be procured at the Canon camp by parties who desire to descend the trails or make 
excursions along the rim. 

There are several hotels in Flagstaff', and visitors who i-hance to arrive in town between the 
regular stage runs, as scheduled above, will have no difficulty in spending time agreeably in 
the interim. In addition to the .San Francisco Peaks and the Cliff and Cave Dwellings, Fisher's 
Tanks may be readied by a short and agreeable drive, and liflcen miles to the south, in Oak 
Creek Canon, there is really excellent trout tishing. 




COLORADO 



PbATEiX^ 












SANTA FE PACirjC 

si^^^'fiE^ Ro^i» Jfl%«).of■''^Ai«i/• 






~\ ^ 






Flagstaff is situiitn' on the S;uit;i IV Pacific Railroad, a ilivisi(jii of the thicjuj;!! C'alifoniia 
line of the Santa Fe Route. 

Special tickets tci the (jranil Canon, containing stage coupon, are sold at reduced rates hy 
agents of the ."^anta Fe Koute, and l^y agents nf connecting lines, in the principal cities of the 
United States. 

Inquiries as to cost of tickets, time nf trains, etc., may he addres.'-ed to any agent of the 
Santa Fe Route, or to the undersigned, as may Ije most convenient. 

W. J. BL.\CK, C. A. H!<.(iI.\S, 

General Passenger Agent, A. T. & S. F. li'y, As^^t. ( ieneral Passenger Agent, A. T. & S. F. H'y, 

ToPF.KA, K.AX. Ciiir.voo. 

'■ '■ ^^'^^^^ W. S. KKKX.^N, 

General Passenger Agent, So. Cal. R'y 

and Santa Fe Pac. R. P., General Passenger Agent, (i. (_'. A S. F. R'y, 

Los Angeles. G.\LVEsrox, Tex. 

,1X0. L. TRUSLOW, 

General .\gent, Passenger Dept, Santa Fe Pac. R. P., 

S.\N Fu.\X(is(<i. 



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LIBRPRY OF CONGRESS 



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